


Bittersweet Hearts

by nalathequeen2186



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Hawke and Anders have a much-needed heart-to-heart, Post-Chantry Explosion, Post-Game, Purple Hawke is only purple because she hides her emotions behind humor, Sympathetic Anders, but there's a lot of crying and yelling first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 03:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nalathequeen2186/pseuds/nalathequeen2186
Summary: He had to do it. There was no other way. If Anders hadn't blown up that Chantry, the entire Kirkwall circle would be dead. But seeing the quiet anguish his lover tries to hide from all the others, he can't stop the cold guilt eating away at him.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Purple Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Bittersweet Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, look at this almost six-year-old fic I found lying around on my hard drive! I have absolutely no idea why I never posted this, but since I found it, here ya go! (Please see the end of the fic for my thoughts on Anders' actions, if you're concerned about that.)

He found her at the outer edge of camp, away from the others. They had set up camp on Sundermount, where Merrill’s clan had been for the last seven years. They had packed up and left abruptly after Marethari’s death, but the templars didn’t necessarily know that, and with the grass packed flat and the location fairly sheltered from the elements, it was as good a spot as any, even if it didn’t help anyone’s mood much to return to the site of such bad memories.

“You have one hour, Champion,” Cullen had said as they reached the small dock at the front of the battle-scarred Gallows. “After that, I will be obligated to find and arrest you again. If you want to leave this city before more templars arrive, I suggest you hurry.”

It was on the ride back to the city proper that Anders had first noticed her expression. Even during the tense wait barely an hour ago, waiting in the Gallows for the templars’ attack, she hadn’t lost her spark of humor. But now, she stared ahead, detached and sober. He wanted to reach out, try to comfort her, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her after everything that had happened.

_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

They had barely had enough time to grab supplies. Varric split from the group to grab a few things from his place, and Merrill ran off to the alienage muttering something about her mirror, while the rest helped Hawke load up any supplies they could carry from her mansion. She discarded one of her daggers to bring along the one that belonged to her father, but otherwise left everything else behind. She smiled, jokingly bequeathed ownership of the place to a bewildered and terrified Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana, but it was her eyes that Anders focused on. Humorless. Miserable.

_Your fucking fault._

And then they had met up at the edge of the city and run. Aveline stayed behind, saying she couldn’t leave her men in a crisis like this, and it was her duty to help clean up the damage from all the fighting. It was a very pointed comment, and everyone very deliberately refrained from looking at Anders as she said it. They blamed him, too. As well they should. He knew no amount of _it had to be dones_ would convince them, and frankly, they were right. He should have died. It was only just.

By the time they had reached the old Dalish camp, the sky was graying along one edge and everyone was too exhausted to do more than set up their bedrolls and blankets and collapse into sleep. Anders had slipped away during the activity, hiding just around a corner and falling to his knees, silent tears running down his face. He’d seen the looks everyone was giving him. Fenris, he was used to. But Isabela, Bethany, Varric… especially Varric. Varric had been his closest friend in Kirkwall, besides Hawke, and now he refused to even look at Anders. He’d driven every one of his friends from their homes, and they hated him for it.

_You deserve it_.

And Hawke… she was, thus far, the only one who would speak to him directly, but she wasn’t _talking_ to him. Not really. She was hiding behind her humor again, using it as a mask, a shield. He knew what that was like. It was how he had survived for most of his life, locked away in the Circle. Whenever he was hauled in yet again, dark bruises forming on his skin and templars sneering in his face, all he had was humor. But damn it, at least he could let the façade drop for those he loved. He didn’t have to protect himself around Karl. He could open up, not have to fear showing who he really was beneath his jokes. Hawke just wouldn’t budge.

When he was finished crying and had composed himself somewhat, Anders had straightened up and walked back towards the others, only to find Hawke still awake, leaning against a small tree and staring out towards the forms of her sleeping companions. She must not have noticed him slipping off earlier, too preoccupied in her own thoughts to realize that there was one less person around the fire than there should have been. She’d let her guard down - the small smile she had been wearing all night was gone, replaced with despair. She looked barely a heartbeat away from crying herself. His heart clenched.

_You did this to her, you fucking monster._

He had to talk to her. He couldn’t just leave her like this. She was shutting everyone out, refusing to acknowledge her own emotions, trying to stay strong for everyone else when she had long since passed the point of needing to. Her friends would carry her if she would only let them. Anders would too, but he wasn’t sure she would let him anyway.

Sighing, he moved forward until the light from the fire illuminated his form. She stiffened, then turned, and he saw her expression quickly change into a friendly half-smile. “Anders!” she said as he stepped up next to her. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I mean, Maker knows you never get enough sleep for your own good, but….”

“Hawke,” he said quietly.

She plowed on ahead. “…we _have_ just been through a battle. A rather… bigger one than we normally get ourselves into, anyway. By the way, I meant to ask - you didn’t hurt yourself, did you? Or… forget to heal your own injuries, or something?”

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. He knew this would happen. “Hawke, I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” she said, with that small lilting laugh of hers. “Is there some other deep dark secret you want to let me in on?”

“Hawke….”

He saw her wince slightly; clearly she hadn’t meant her words to be so biting. It was like a knife in the heart - he knew he deserved it, but somehow that kind of barb coming from her cut a lot deeper than the comments from the others. “That is - what I meant was -”

“ _Hawke!_ Drop the act. We need to talk, and I can’t do that if you’re always trying to divert me with your damn jokes!”

That did it. She stared, mouth open in shock, her façade falling away. He saw pain, anger, hurt, and realized in that moment that she probably hated him just as much as the others did. She was just better at hiding it. Once her friend, her lover, and now he was just the monster who had stolen her home and her life from her.

_You forced her to run. Again. She had a home and you took that from her._

“I just…” he faltered, suddenly lost for words. “I saw you. You can’t keep pretending that you’re unaffected by all this. And… I know it’s my fault. I’m the reason you all are out here right now. I’ve probably just made you all fugitives for life.” She kept staring, lips pressing together, and he had to look away. “I had to do it, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, but… just don’t think I don’t realize the gravity of what I’ve - ”

“Shut up,” she said quietly. He looked back at her face to see it had hardened into a cold steely glare. “I don’t care about any of that. All right? I know you had to do it. Meredith was going to annul the Circle. You gave them a chance. I know that. So shut. Up.”

“Hawke,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. His heart felt like it would be crushed under the weight of his conscience.

“ _What_ , Anders.”

“I know how much your home meant to you. And I know I’m the reason you’ve been driven away. I….”

She glared even harder. “And what, you’re going to apologize?”

“I didn’t expect you to help the mages. I… I’m glad you did, but you weren’t one of us. You could have remained neutral. You could have stayed. It didn’t have to be your fight.”

She snorted humorlessly. “And what? You think the templars would have left me alone? Me the Champion of Kirkwall, who was sleeping with the apostate who blew up the Chantry?”

“Damn it Hawke, you should have _killed_ me!”

“ _Killed_ you?” Hawke’s voice had become shrill, and he worried briefly that she would wake the others. “You think I would _kill_ you, you son of a bitch?”

“I deserve it! I’m the one who blew up that Chantry. I drove you, and all your friends, from their homes. I ruined every good thing you had in Kirkwall. It’s my fault!”

A sob wrenched itself free from her chest, and it was his turn to stare in shock. “You don’t understand a _fucking_ thing, do you?” she said, ignoring the tears spilling from her eyes. “You… you think this is about my house? My fucking title? You think if I just… just killed you and ignored the mages being slaughtered in the Gallows, then I could resume my life and be happy? Is that what you think?”

Anders was shaking now, unable to look her in the eye. “You told me about your life before. At least when I was on the run, it was my own choice. But you… you never told your family but you hated having to be always running. You always wished you could have a real home, and not have to worry about being ready to leave at a moment’s notice. You had that in Kirkwall, and I took it from you.”

“Damn it Anders, it’s not about the _fucking_ house!”

He kept his head down.

“Did I hate always being on the run? Yes, I did. I hated it, and I couldn’t even tell my family. If I did I would be the selfish older sister who can’t think about anyone but herself. Two apostates in the family, constantly in danger, I had to think about how to keep them safe before anything else.” Hawke was so agitated by now that she began pacing in front of him. “And I couldn’t even manage that. Carver _died_ because of me.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Anders mumbled.

“Yes! It! Was! I _failed_ Carver! I failed Bethany, I was the one who made the decision to bring her to the Deep Roads! If you hadn’t been there to induct her into the Wardens, she would have died too!”

“You asked me to come,” he whispered.

“And barely three years later, my mother died because I didn’t put the pieces together about the damn serial killer necromancer fast enough!” She gasped for air, sobbing as she spoke, and Anders felt tears once more coming to his eyes as well. “Everyone I love dies because of me! So when you started acting so strangely and asking for my help… damn it Anders, I was _terrified!”_

That was not what he had expected. He finally looked up to see her staring at him, all anger gone, face wet with tears.

“I just… went with it, I was trying to deny that things would change. We’d been so _happy_ together, and I was so terrified of losing you. You don’t understand….”

“Hawke, I - ”

“So tonight, I wasn’t even thinking about my damn mansion. I wasn’t thinking about any of that. All I wanted to do was protect _you_. I knew that if they had their way, you would be dead for what you did. But you’re still here -” another sob wrenched its way free from her, “ - and not only that, but - now I’ve got Bethany back too - and you’ve been sitting here thinking I would have _killed_ you - ”

She tried to say more, but was cut off by Anders stepping forward and wrapping his arms tight around her. She sobbed into his chest, and he cried too, tears trickling their way down into her hair. He wasn’t sure how to describe his emotions at that moment. Not sad, but not happy either. It was as though a weight had been lifted off his chest, to be replaced with a different, more bittersweet weight.

_She doesn’t hate you. She was_ worried _about you. Maker, you don’t deserve her._

They clung tightly to each other for who knew how long, until she stopped shaking and his tears had run dry. When she finally pulled back, she looked a mess, as he was sure he did too - hair ruffled and eyes puffy and red. But the mask was gone. He pressed his palm to her cheek, running his fingers down the side of her face, and she sniffed.

“Maker, Hawke. I’m so sorry.”

“I am too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“You had every right to. I was an idiot.”

She let out a weak huff of laughter at that - real laughter. “You still are, you know.”

He laughed too.

“Just promise me one thing,” he said, letting his other hand stroke gently up and down her arm. “Don’t hide your real feelings from me anymore. I don’t want to have to break through to you every time I want to have a serious talk.”

She smiled. “Deal. But only if _you_ promise not to keep any more earth-shattering secrets from _me_ from now on.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Hawke stepped back and intertwined her fingers in his. “Come on,” she said. “The sky is getting light. We should really be getting some sleep. You especially.”

He exhaled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, and allowed her to lead him back to the fire, and to their bedrolls.

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of people have a lot of strong feelings about Anders and his whole Chantry stunt. My personal take on it is that he was suffering from a lot of stress and anxiety, and combining that with his past experiences, hatred of Chantry-controlled mage oppression, and a sharp depressive downswing (he was written to be bipolar, after all), he decided he had no other choice. I don't really EXCUSE his actions necessarily, but I understand them (and so does this fic's Hawke). And in the end, his plan did pretty much work how he intended it to, and sparked a whole lot of debate across Thedas about mage rights, so you can't really argue it was pointless. Really, I can't see how so many people hate Anders for what he did here, yet love Cloud, Barret, Jessie, and everyone else at the beginning of FFVII even though their actions arguably caused a lot more immediate deaths (they blew up a REACTOR, people! And they're the good guys!). So, yeah, kind of an unashamed Anders apologist here (not that I really approve of blowing up buildings generally...), though to be fair it's been years since I was active in the Dragon Age fandom in any capacity and thus years since I've really thought about this.


End file.
